Muskoka Was A Haven For Canadian Authors

My love of trains and railway history was instilled in my life at a very young age while growing up on the side of the railway tracks in Kilworthy.   The old water tank in Washago has stood the test of time and proudly stands as an important part of our local railway history.   How many steam engines pulled their water tender under the tank to be refilled before heading off on their journey to the North Country or southern to Toronto.  I can remember the excitement of the age of steam engines pulling into the Kilworthy Station and the excitement of the arrival of the first diesel locomotive.   I’ve even brought home some coal cinders that I proudly treasure as a memory of the days of steam. - Photo By Fred Schulz

FOLLOW IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE GREAT BARDS? MAYBE WE SHOULD!

MUSKOKA AS WALDEN

QUITE A NUMBER OF CANADA'S BEST KNOWN BARDS…., THE POETS, PHILOSOPHERS AND ASSORTED OTHER CREATIVE MINDS, FOUND THE DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA A PARTICULARLY INSPIRING PLACE IN WHICH TO CREATE. IN FACT, THEY GATHERED AT THE FORMER MUSKOKA ASSEMBLY, ON TOBIN'S ISLAND, LAKE ROSSEAU, (NEAR WINDERMERE), AS PART OF THE ROAMING CANADIAN CHATAUQUA PROGRAM. ANY ONE WHO KNOWS THIS LOCATION, WOULD AGREE WITH CLAIMS, ABOUT ITS PICTURESQUE QUALITIES.

THE POOLING OF POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS, WAS AT ITS PEAK IN THE 1920'S AND 30'S, AND INCLUDED SUCH IMPORTANT CANADIAN WRITERS AS WILSON MACDONALD, BLISS CARMEN, CHARLES G.D. ROBERTS, MARSHALL SAUNDERS (BOOK, BEAUTIFUL JOE) PLUS MANY OTHER LITERARY RISING STARS. MUSKOKA OFFERED A SORT OF SPIRITUAL CONNECTION, AFFORDING AN AWAKENING OF THE SENSES. I TALKED WITH A WRITER, WELL ACQUAINTED WITH THE CHATAUQUA MOVEMENT, AND ITS STAY IN MUSKOKA, AND SHE WAS VERY CLEAR ABOUT THE FACT MUSKOKA IS, AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE, A VERY "SPIRITUAL PLACE." IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN FOR ME, BUT THEN I'M NOT A GREAT BARD, OR REVERED PHILOSOPHER.

AT DAYBREAK THIS MORNING, THE MOON ON THE WESTERN HORIZON, WAS CUT BY THREE THIN, EVENLY SEPARATED LAYERS OF CLOUD. IT LOOKED MORE LIKE AN EMBLEM ON A FLAG, THAN A GENUINE NATURAL OCCURRENCE. IT HAD AN AMAZING WHITE GLOW AND PINK BACKDROP OF SKY. REFLECTING OFF THE DIAMOND-LIGHT OF THE DISTANT, UNDULATING SNOWSCAPE, AND THROUGH THE BRANCHES OF THE MAPLES IN THE YARD, IT LOOKED QUITE FASCINATING TO THE INADVERTENT VOYEUR. I'M SURE THE POET-KIND MIGHT HAVE MADE COPIOUS NOTES ABOUT THE MORNING SKY, AND TURNED IT INTO SOMETHING POETIC…..SOMETHING REFLECTIVE OF LIFE AND BEYOND, AND THE UNIVERSALITY OF IT ALL. I HAVE LONG BEEN A READER OF THEIR WORK. I HAVE FELT MANY TIMES, THAT THESE POETS, FROM OUR PAST, SAW SOMETHING IN THIS REGION THAT WE HAVE COME TO IGNORE. IN THIS DAY AND AGE, WITH TECHNOLOGY SEEMINGLY OUR NEW REASON TO WORSHIP AND HOPE, THE WORK OF THE POETS HAS BEEN RELEGATED TO DARK, DUSTY, COB-WEBBED CORNERS OF LIBRARIES. AT AN ESTATE SALE, OR AUCTION, WE MIGHT BE LUCKY ENOUGH, TO FIND A FEW COPIES OF THE BOOKS WRITTEN AND SIGNED BY WILSON MACDONALD, WHO SPENT CONSIDERABLE TIME IN OUR REGION, WELL BEYOND THE DAYS OF THE MUSKOKA ASSEMBLY. HE WOULD DO READINGS AT SCHOOL AND PUBLIC LIBRARIES, AND SELL HIS OWN BOOKS AFTER HIS PRESENTATION…..OFTEN TO VERY SUBSTANTIAL AUDIENCES. HE WOULD SIT AND AUTOGRAPH ALL THE BOOKS HE SOLD, WITH A LITTLE NOTATION ADDED AT THE TIME….OF HIS OWN CREATION, AND POTENTIALLY EVEN A LITTLE GRAPHIC INCLUSION…..IF YOU WERE TO ENGAGE HIM IN DISCUSSION, WHILE HE STILL HAD PEN IN HAND. I HAVE QUITE A NUMBER OF BOOKS HE HAND-ILLUMINATED, WHILE SITTING, AND TALKING WITH HIS READERS.

I KNOW, AHEAD OF TIME, THAT MOST PEOPLE I TALK TO THESE DAYS, ABOUT MUSKOKA HISTORY, WILL HAVE NO IDEA WHO WILSON MACDONALD WAS….OR THE OTHER POETS OF HIS DAY. YET LIKE THE ARTISTS OF THE LEGENDARY GROUP OF SEVEN, WHO GAVE US A NEW AND EXCITING WAY OF LOOKING AT OUR COUNTRY, THESE WERE THE WRITERS, GIVING THIS COUNTRY ITS LITERARY HERITAGE. MUSKOKA FACTORED HEAVILY INTO THIS LITERARY HISTORY. BUT IT'S NOT LIKELY THAT WILSON MACDONALD, OR BLISS CARMEN OR CHARLES G.D. ROBERTS, WILL EVER AGAIN BE NAMES BANDIED ABOUT, OR ON THE TIP OF ANYONE'S TONGUE. SADLY, IT IS A LOSS TO OUR REGION, BECAUSE THESE POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS, AND ARTISTS WHO PAINTED AROUND OUR LAKELAND, DID RECOGNIZE THE HIDDEN SPIRITUALITY OF THE ALLURING HINTERLAND. THE ACADEMICS OF THE PAST, FOUND REASON TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT MUSKOKA WAS A NURTURING GROUND FOR PROGRESSIVE THOUGHT. I HAVE NEVER ONCE, AS A LONG TIME WRITER AND HISTORIAN, SERVING THIS REGION OF ONTARIO, FOUND ANY REASON TO DISMISS THEIR OBSERVANCES ABOUT THE SOURCES OF INSPIRATION, MUSKOKA OFFERS ITS CREATIVE RESIDENTS. ONE NEED NOT GO FURTHER THAN THE LIST OF ACTIVE MUSKOKA ARTISTS AND ARTISANS, WHO HAVE FOUND IDEAL PORTALS ONTO THE HINTERLAND, FROM WHICH TO WORK. YOU CAN FIND MANY OF THESE FOLKS, MEMBERS OF THE MUSKOKA ARTS AND CRAFTS ASSOCIATION, OF WHICH I HAVE ENORMOUS RESPECT. WE ALL HAVE OUR SPECIAL WINDOWS OVERLOOKING THE NATURAL ATTRIBUTES OF THIS DYNAMIC REGION.

THERE ARE REASONS WE TAKE THE NATURE OF MUSKOKA FOR GRANTED. IT DOESN'T SEEM AS IMPORTANT AS THE FUNCTIONING OF OUR DAY TO DAY LIVES. IT DOESN'T SEEM, AT TIMES, ANYTHING MORE THAN A FRUSTRATION TO DEVELOPERS……WHEN OPPONENTS USE ENVIRONMENTAL SENSITIVITY TO BLOCK EARTH MOVERS AND TARMAC. WE PASS BY THESE WOODLANDS BY DAY AND NIGHT, AND THINK OF THEM AS A PRETTY BACKDROP ON A SUNNY MORNING, OR MOONLIT NIGHT. WHEN WE HEAR A CHAINSAW SOMEWHERE IN THE DISTANCE, WE ASSUME A TREE THAT IS DEAD, IS BEING FELLED FOR SAFETY REASONS. WHEN WE READ IN THE DAILY NEWS, OR ONLINE, THAT WE HAVE BEEN GIFTED WITH A SPRAWLING NEW DEVELOPMENT, A BOX STORE OR STRIP MALL, WE INITIALLY GET EXCITED THAT MORE JOB OPPORTUNITIES WILL BE CREATED. WHEN WE SEE THE DUMP TRUCKS RUMBLING BY, WITH FULL LOADS OF MOTHER EARTH, WE ASSUME OUR REGION IS FINALLY COMING OF AGE. WHEN WE FIND OUT THAT A MARINA EXPANSION WILL OCCUR, WITH MORE DOCKING SPACE FOR BOATS, IT'S USUALLY ONLY THOSE WITH A VESTED INTEREST, AS NEIGHBORS, WHO FEEL ANY SENSE OF CONCERN ABOUT FUTURE CONGESTION, AND ISSUES OF WATER QUALITY. WHEN WE GET SNOWED IN, WE COMPLAIN ABOUT HORRIBLE WINTERS. WHEN OUR EVENTS ARE RAINED OUT, IT IS NATURE'S FAULT.

I MISS THE RAMBLINGS OF OLD POETS THROUGH OUR WILD PLACES. I MISS THE WAY THEY INFORMED US, THE STAKE-HOLDERS OF THIS AMAZING REGION, THAT WE SHOULD OPEN OURSELVES TO ITS INHERENT SPIRITUALITY…..LET IT SOOTHE AWAY OUR WOES…..INSPIRE OUR FUTURE EFFORTS. I MISS THE EMPHASIS THEY PLACED, ON NATURAL QUALITIES, AND REALITIES WE NEED TO BE CONCERNED. I MISS THEIR CREATIVE ENCOURAGEMENT, TO INSPIRE US TO LOOK BEYOND WHATS PRESENTS AS REAL AND PERPETUATING, TO SEE LIFE AS A GREAT WEALTH….AS AN ENDURING RESOURCE, TO BE USED AND CELEBRATED. ALAS, THE WORK OF THE GREAT BARDS, THE PHILOSOPHERS OF A YOUNG COUNTRY, ARE SELDOM, IF EVER RECALLED, EXCEPT BY SENTIMENTAL FOOLS LIKE ME…..WHO STILL DEPEND TOO MUCH, I SUPPOSE, ON THE SPIRITUALITY THEY FOUND DURING THEIR ADVENTURES. NOW IT IS A NEW SOURCE OF INSPIRATION, FOR TODAY'S INVESTORS ARRIVING IN THE LAKELAND…..TO EXPLOIT WHAT THEY SEE ONLY AS AN UNTAPPED RESOURCE…..NOT A CIRCULATORY VEIN OF ENLIGHTENMENT, SUCH THAT STEWARDSHIP SHOULD OUTWEIGH CAPITALIST FERVOR. WE ARE IN FOR A FUTURE OF EXPLOITATION, BUT NOT BASED ON THE REGION'S SPIRITUAL ESSENCE. BASED ON MARKET VALUE.

"COME NOT THE LEISURE OF THIS DRIFTING MOON, NOR BLAME THE LAZY LOITERING OF STARS, THAT PASS ABOVE THESE ISLES OF BEARDED STONE; NOR WONDER SHOULD THE SLOWLY WHEELING CARS OF ALGOL AND ARCTURUS CRAVE THE BOON, TO EVER REMAIN - AND NIGHT PAUSE LIKE A NOMAD WHO HAS FOUND, IN WOODLANDS STRUNG WITH MOONLIGHT WHOSE PALE RAIN, DESCENDS TO EARTH WITH NEITHER SCENT NOR TONE, THE HAVEN WHITHER AGELONG SHE WAS BOUND.

DARK ARE THESE GROPING WATERS, DARK AS WINE, FROM A WILD CHERRY'S HEART; A LIGHT WIND COMES, WITH SPEED OF FIRE AROUND A WOODED TURN, WITHIN WHOSE DROWSY HAUNTS A PARTRIDGE STRUMS, IN DREAMS, DISTURBING SLUMBER OF THE PINE. HERE THE WHITE POPLARS BOIL, ABOVE THE MOON-FIRES KINDLED IN A POOL, WHEREIN THE DYING HEMLOCK POURS ITS OIL, AND WHERE THE BROWN, DECAYING FRONDS OF FERN, LIE IN A DREAMLESS SLUMBER, SWEET AND COOL."

THE POEM, ENTITLED SIMPLY, "MUSKOKA" WAS WRITTEN BY MADONALD, PUBLISHED IN HIS 1926 BOOK, "OUT OF THE WILDERNESS," INSPIRED BY HIS DAYS SPENT ON TOBIN'S ISLAND, LAKE ROSSEAU.

In The Words Of Henry David Thoreau

One of the sure signs that spring has arrived is the appearance of daffodils with their brilliant yellow blooms.   These beautiful daffodils were found on an abandon property along the Southwood Road.   It the warm weather continues, the spring wild flowers will soon be appearing.   Certainly one of my favourite subjects to photograph! - Photo by Fred Schulz

THE JOYS OF SOLITUDE AND NATURE - THE INVIGORATION OF THE SENSES

     "THIS IS A DELICIOUS EVENING, WHEN THE WHOLE BODY IS ONE SENSE, AND IMBIBES DELIGHT THROUGH EVERY PORE. I GO AND COME WITH A STRANGE LIBERTY IN NATURE, A PART OF HERSELF. AS I WALK ALONG THE STONY SHORE OF THE POND IN MY SHIRT SLEEVES, THOUGH IT IS COOL AS WELL AS CLOUDY, AND WINDY, AND I SEE NOTHING SPECIAL TO ATTRACT ME, ALL THE ELEMENTS ARE UNUSUALLY CONGENIAL TO ME. THE BULLFROGS TRUMP TO USHER IN THE NIGHT, AND THE NOTE OF THE WHIPPOORWILL IS BORNE ON THE RIPPLING WIND FROM OVER THE WATER. SYMPATHY WITH THE FLUTTERING ALDER AND POPLAR LEAVES, ALMOST TAKES AWAY MY BREATH; YET LIKE THE LAKE, MY SERENITY IS RIPPLED BUT NOT RUFFLED. THESE SMALL WAVES RAISED BY THE EVENING WIND ARE AS REMOTE FROM STORM AS THE SMOOTH REFLECTING SURFACE. THOUGH IT IS NOW DARK, THE WIND STILL BLOWS AND ROARS IN THE WOOD, THE WAVES STILL DASH, AND SOME CREATURES LULL THE REST WITH THEIR NOTES. THE REPOSE IS NEVER COMPLETE. THE WILDEST ANIMALS DO NOT REPOSE, BUT SEEK THEIR PREY NOW; THE FOX AND SKUNK, AND RABBIT, NOW ROAM THE FIELDS AND WOODS WITHOUT FEAR. THEY ARE NATURE'S WATCHMEN, LINKS WHICH CONNECT THE DAYS OF ANIMATED LIFE."

     I HAVE THIS WRITTEN OUT, ON A PIECE OF PAPER POSTED ABOVE MY DESK; THE PAPER YELLOWED AND RIPPED, BUT CONTAINING THE MOST IMPORTANT PARAGRAPH, WHICH TO ME, IS AN ENDURING SOURCE OF DAILY INSPIRATION; ESPECIALLY WHEN AT TIMES, THE VIEW FROM HERE, HAS SEEMED DULL AND UNREMARKABLE……TIME FULL OF TURMOIL AND ANTICIPATION. THESE ARE THE WORDS CONTAINED IN THE CHAPTER, "SOLITUDE," AS WRITTEN BY LEGENDARY AMERICAN AUTHOR, HENRY DAVID THOREAU, IN HIS WELL LOVED BOOK, "WALDEN AND CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE."

     I CAME UPON THOREAU'S WORK QUITE BY ACCIDENT. IT WAS ONE OF THOSE ACCIDENTS, THAT HAD A GOOD AND POSITIVE SIDE, AND CAME AT THE RIGHT TIME IN MY LIFE TO BE APPRECIATED.

I FOUND THE BOOK IN A BOX GIVEN TO MY MOTHER

     When I was finishing up high school, in Bracebridge, I had some concerns about what field I would major in, when attending university. I didn't have a clue. I was interested in history and english, but I really didn't see myself becoming a teacher. I was too impatient. Too impulsive. I was above all, claustrophobic. Being confined to a classroom, was like being nailed into a coffin each day. And most important, I had hated school every year I had been enrolled, from grade one onward. Although family and friends thought I'd make a decent teacher, or possibly a professor, I was thinking more along the lines of "country philosopher," or a "bard," although I was pretty sure this wouldn't have been a very profitable pursuit. I was in a quandary because university was expensive, and I needed to make a wise investment in my courses of study. So I started to read more, in an attempt to loosen the old noggin, in order to consider all the possibilities….all the pertinent points of view. I have always felt writers knew about universal, philosophical stuff I needed to know, which explains why I have been drawn to books for most of my life.

     My mother picked up a bag of books someone had left in the laundry room, of our apartment building, and she found some titles that appealed to her reading interests, and even retrieved one for me……and yes, it was my strange, rather unremarkable introduction to Henry David Thoreau. From the laundry room to my room. So it seemed like a worthwhile book to invest some time, and I even took it to work with me, for lunch-time reading. I was working as a shipper /driver at Building Trades Centre, in Bracebridge, where my father Ed was manager. I used to take small deliveries out to cottage properties, around the lakes, and on occasion, I'd have to wait for a contractor or owner to show up at the site, to sign for the delivery. I wasn't allowed to leave an order without a signature. So I had a lot of time out in the woods. So this day, I decided to take the book along, because I knew there was a good chance, I was going to be spending some quality time out in the bush waiting. Other drivers had warned me about this job, and the contractor, who was missing in action a lot. I wasn't wrong.

     I remember going to this particular property on Healey Lake, just off the Fraserburg Road, (in Bracebridge), and having to wait more than an hour and a half, for the contractor to return from lunch. The small cottage was only missing the siding and the windows, of which I had some of both in the back of the truck. It was raining and I hated the idea of sitting in the truck for however long it was going to take, for someone to arrive back on site. So I wandered over to the cottage, with my book under my arm, and sat down just inside the front door, with my feet slung out on top of the first step, of the unfinished verandah. It was a beautiful setting, and the sound of the light rain on the leaves was so relaxing, yet strangely alluring at the same time. It was a contradiction as such; being an exciting solitude. A very inspirational place to spend time in contemplation. I contemplated a lot back then…..as my preparation for becoming a modern day philosopher…..which I actually thought was a profession.

     After enjoying the scene for twenty minutes or so, I began delving into the world this author had made at Concord's Walden Pond. Why were his observations so revered? What did he know of life and times that I didn't? What did nature mean to him? So for the better part of the next hour, I read my first chapters of "Walden Pond" and quickly understood how astute an observer he had been, in his era, and in his region of the hinterland. It was at times, as if Thoreau himself, was sitting beside me, on this doorless portal onto the nature of Muskoka. The lake in behind, through a second open door, looked like shattered glass, with the fall of rain rippling its silver surface. I was sensing Walden Pond, even though, regionally, it was South Muskoka, in the Province of Ontario. I could actually see the point he was making via the book he wrote. This was the visual beyond the print, and his words rang true to what was happening around me, in this din of natural sounds and myriad occurrences of insects, birds, and animals. It was a gentle occasion, but it was electric at the same time, with so much going on…..deer leaping down the road, a beaver coming up from the lowland, and fish breaking the surface of the lake, lunging for the flies that hovered over its surface. It was as if he had opened a door for me, to see the true philosophy of unfettered nature……all from a perch above the thriving ferns beneath, and the evergreens making up the border of the country lane. The scene was remarkable because I was seeing it, in company of a true country philosopher. Even though I had always been a wanderer in nature, resorting to the woods and lakeland whenever possible, often with canoe and paddle, I witnessed something on this day, that I can only relate to, what David Grayson, once wrote, of an opening of the closed mind, to see to the horizon and beyond, in the universality of personal discovery. I couldn't claim, to having become a scholar in the works of Thoreau, after reading only several chapters, but it became a heavily relied upon book that I came to latch onto, to explain my own deepening interests in rural philosophy, and engaging nature to suit my wild wanderlust. My mother gave me a head start in the domain of philosophy, when she handed me this discard book, of which I have never been separated from, in spirit, since that spring day back in 1973.

     This simple passage, that is posted by my desk, reminds me of that occasion, sitting in the doorway of a half finished Muskoka cottage, with the good company of Mr. Thoreau, at least in spirit. In some ways, it was my awakening to the possibilities that I could become a country philosopher after all……if however, I didn't measure the success of this career move, by the amount of money pocketed at the end of each week. My parents wanted me to be a teacher. A succession of wonderful girlfriends and male chums, bet I would become a teacher. I became a writer instead, and a sort of country philosopher on account of Henry David Thoreau…..and a book I consider my country bible. The pay sucks but the dividends are perpetually enlightening. All I have to do, is wander over to the adjacent woodlands, here at Birch Hollow, to regain my passion for discovery…..because I never return home, that I can honestly say, I didn't find anything to fascinate me. I could write a book about these "fascinations," with nature…..never once requiring an "app" to make the connection.

     Thank you for taking a little time today, with the good Mr. Thoreau and me……always in your debt, for your faithful visitations.

Wandering Aimlessly Through The Forest And Turtles Crossing

"Keep an eye out for Turtles on the Road

 

Today I helped my first turtle of the season across the highway!   It’s been something that I’ve been doing for many years and today, April 28th, just north of the Washago bypass, I spotted a small painted turtle who was attempting to cross the highway during the busy Sunday night traffic.   Now, I wouldn’t recommend this activity to everyone, however I have a great love of turtles and have seen too many turtles run over by careless motorists or those who just don’t care about these beautiful creatures.    This little fellow was a little shy to have his picture taken, but I took a photo anyway.

Please watch for turtles in the road and avoid hitting them.     “Turtle Crossing Season” was begun today!" - Quote and Photo By Fred Schulz

WANDERING AIMLESSLY A PASSION OF MINE

Since my day to day writing-job was abandoned, when I took up antique hunting over journalism, back in 1990, I’ve rarely had writing jags as prolific and successful, as I’ve experienced, quite joyfully, for the past six months. I love to write. Sometimes I do get anchored down by certain subject material, and this year it was local politics. I’ve never been a political animal, as a hobbyist, and have shied away from spending too much time analyzing it.....even when I was working as an editor for the local press......I’d make no apology for fobbing off a political story to a reporter interested in local government. I used to fall asleep at council meetings.....as did four or five other district councillors bored to slumber by the proceedings.

. I’m particularly strict about what makes it to print, these days, and what is destroyed before public consumption. I’ve always worked in this fashion....much like an artist with sketches and paint boards that don’t measure up, and are destroyed to avoid any future appearance in the public domain. Starting about six years ago now, I began seeking out all my early notes and essays, and commenced shredding like a man possessed. I couldn’t even stand to read opening paragraphs. I knew what they were, and my only question was why I had hung onto them for so long. I don’t want my family to have to make these decisions later on, about what can be re-published, and what should make the waste bin. So I have cleansed the trial and error copy and although I had regrets, over the reduction generally, it was a good feeling to cut the rope, on what I have long perceived, to be a cumbersome anchor, encrusted in the barnacles of writing misadventure. Now I’m far more precise and with the computer, versus the old Underwood typewriter, I can zap what I don’t want, without crumbling one page of actual printed copy.

Today it’s so nice to wander out here through The Bog.....my English moor, and think about some new writing projects I want to pursue this spring and summer.  I like starting new, even on semi-retired research projects, such as the Thomson story, which I began writing initially for the Muskoka Sun, back in the mid-1990's. It’s a great story with all kinds of strange twists. But it’s Thomson’s fabulous art, more than anything else, that compels me to stick with the story-line. Out here this morning, I can see a number of natural scenes Thomson might have found worthy of closer study, possibly a sketch or two. What a privilege it is then, to be so pleasantly immersed in the middle of remarkable nature.

Over the past six months I involved myself with political debate and local government-themed editorials, on my blog-sites, and it is such a departure for me to do so, that Suzanne felt compelled to remind me of the more inspiring things in life, I’ve been blowing off.......in order to write about tax increases, social neglect, over-governance, under governance, and general malaise at town hall here in Gravenhurst. Not that I don’t believe my work over the past six months, was worthwhile, just that Suzanne knows that if I drop my landscape writing for more than a couple of weeks at a time, there’s an obsessive-compulsive problem brewing. I need to wander these well trodden paths, and stand here looking out over all the fresh growth, the new and emerging life forms, that call this splendid little haven, their home. For the first few serious outings, through the wetland, I will still grumble about this or that, an objection from some newspaper account I’ve read, or kick at some fallen birch, as if it represents all the political problems we face in this municipality. You should see what I kick when disenchanted about provincial and federal politics. I have to remind myself constantly that what I’m kicking is some critter’s habitat. So I refrain.

This beautiful place will stay on my mind throughout the day now, and when I sit down at this keyboard, I will feel empowered, not burdened-down by things I can’t change or improve upon. This nature, I study, is perfect as it is. The freedom I have to explore it, is a freedom known to the spirit, as the greatest escape of all. A burden cast off,.... a heaven-on-earth to explore.

Legend Of Tall Pines In Muskoka

Gazebo at The Gravenhurst Wharf - Photo By Fred Schulz

LEGEND OF TALL PINES - THE SOUND OF THE WIND

MUSKOKA AS WALDEN

" TWISTING BALLS OF FIRE, FROZEN STILL IN LIGHT, LOOPS OF WRITHING DRAGONS LEAP FROM THE BOUNDS OF NIGHT. GRASPING CLAWS SLASH AGAINST THE AIR, TO ESCAPE THE ROSSEAU MYTH. IN SEARCH OF MORTAL WARMTH, TO FREEZE IMMORTAL RIGHT; SUN AND LAKE MAKE A PACT, TO END THE DRAGON'S WAKE. TAME IT WITH THE SPANNING LIGHT, EXPLODING ON THE LAKE, A CHILD, I WATCHED THE DRAGON SLAYED AT DUSK." THE LEGEND OF TALL PINES. 1984. INSPIRED BY THE TALL PINES AT THE COTTAGE IN WINDERMERE.

I MUST HAVE APPEARED QUITE A SILLY-MAN, STANDING OUT, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LANE, PONDERING THE UNIVERSE. I DON'T THINK IN RETROSPECT, I WOULD HAVE ACTUALLY SAID THIS, SHOULD I HAVE MET A NEIGHBOR AT THIS SAME TIME OF NIGHT. BUT IT WAS TRUE NONE THE LESS. IT WAS A CLEAR SKY WITH MOON AND STAR-LIGHT, AND AT ONLY A FEW DEGREES BELOW ZERO CELSIUS, STANDING FOR ALMOST A HALF HOUR, DIDN'T INSPIRE EVEN THE SLIGHTEST CHILL. THE HEAVENS HAD OPENED UP, AND IT REMINDED ME WHEN THE BOYS WERE YOUNGER, AND WE'D EVEN LAY BACK IN THE SOFT SNOW, AT BIRCH HOLLOW, TO LOOK UP INTO THE NIGHT SKY. ON WINTER NIGHTS JUST LIKE THIS……CLEAR AND REFRESHING, AND ALTOGETHER UNIVERSAL IN APPEAL. WHEN YOU'D LAY ON THE SNOW, LOOKING UP, WE WOULD START TO FEEL AS IF WE WERE FLOATING IN SPACE, VERSUS ANCHORED TO THIS PLANET. WE IMAGINED THAT WE HAD PROPULSION FROM JET PACKS, AND WE COULD DART SILENTLY FROM STAR TO STAR IN QUEST OF NOTHING IN PARTICULAR…….OTHER THAN THE FREEDOM TO JET THROUGH TIME AND SPACE, INTO FAR OFF GALAXIES. I WAS AS MUCH A KID AS THEY WERE, IN THOSE CHERISHED DAYS, WHEN IMAGINATION MADE UP MOST OF ANY PLAY-DAY.

BEFORE THE BOYS CAME INTO OUR LIVES, I COMPOSED TWO SMALL BOOKS, LARGELY COMPOSED OF SHORT STORIES, AND SOME POETRY I HAD WORKED ON WHILE AT UNIVERSITY. THERE WERE HOWEVER, SOME PIECES IN THE BOOK, THAT WERE BASED ON ACTUALITY AND MY OUTDOOR EXPERIENCES. THESE ARE MY BIOGRAPHICAL PIECES, AND THEY WERE FROM A PERIOD IN MY CREATIVE ENTERPRISE, WHEN I SPENT MOST OF MY DAYS OUTDOORS LOOKING, I SUPPOSE, FOR THE MEANING OF LIFE. A LOT OF WHAT I WAS WRITING ABOUT, HAD ORIGINS IN THE MUSKOKA WILDS. I WOULD, FOR EXAMPLE, SPEND A DAY BOTTLE DIGGING, AROUND OLD MUSKOKA HOMESTEADS. I STARTED IN THE ANTIQUE BUSINESS, COLLECTING OLD CANADIAN GLASS, GLASS OIL LAMPS, AND BOTH MEDICINE AND SODA BOTTLES. I REAL WINNER WAS FINDING A TORPEDO-SHAPED SODA BOTTLE IN THAT HOMESTEAD SOIL. I MIGHT DIG FOR TWO OR THREE HOURS, BEFORE TAKING MY FIRST BREAK. IF I HAD A GOOD START TO THE DIG, I COULD WORK THROUGH UNTIL LATE AFTERNOON BEFORE REALIZING I HADN'T SNUCK INTO MY PICNIC LUNCH. ONE GOOD FIND MEANT ANOTHER WAS JUST A FEW INCHES AWAY. OF COURSE, THIS WAS TRUE ABOUT ONE PERCENT OF THE TIME, BUT AS TREASURE HUNTERS KNOW, ONCE THE ADRENALIN IS PUMPING HARD, THERE'S NO WAY OF STOPPING WITHOUT BEING COMPELLED TO DO SO……BY SAY, AN IRRITATED BEAR. OLD DUMPSITES SEEMED TO ATTRACT THE ESTABLISHMENT OF RASPBERRY CANES, SO I ALWAYS HAD TO BE WARY OF GUESTS FOR LUNCH.

I WORKED ON BOTTLE DIGS, ON AND OFF, FOR ABOUT FIVE YEARS. WHEN SUZANNE AND I MARRIED, I WAS ABLE TO FIND THREE BURIED SITES ON THE COTTAGE PROPERTY, AND MUCH LATER, ONE AT THE FAMILY HOME IN WINDERMERE. I WAS IN MY ELEMENT, SPADE IN HAND, FOUND BOTTLES AT MY FEET. YET AT THE SAME TIME, I WAS THOROUGHLY ENJOYING THE OUTDOOR EXPERIENCE. AS THE COTTAGE PROPERTY, ON THE SHORE OF LAKE ROSSEAU, WAS LOADED WITH TALL PINES, OVER TIME, I BECAME VERY MUCH INFLUENCED, BY THE SOUND OF THE AIR CURRENTS PASSING THROUGH THE MASS OF NEEDLED-BOUGHS. IT WAS A HAUNTING SOUND THAT ALMOST IMMEDIATELY CAUGHT, NOT ONLY MY ATTENTION, BUT SEEMED TO INFLUENCE EVEN MY IMAGINATION. AS I'D BE DIGGING THROUGH THE DEBRIS OF OLD CANS AND BROKEN GLASS, OF A CENTURY EARLIER, THE OVERHEAD SOUNDS WERE, BY SHEER EXPOSURE, INSPIRING STORY-LINES AND MY WHOLE CREATIVE DEMEANOR. I HAD DONE A MAJORITY OF MY WRITING IN URBAN SETTINGS, IN TORONTO AND BRACEBRIDGE, WHERE MY ATTIC OFFICE, LOOKED OVER THE BUSY LANES OF THE MAIN STREET. I WAS WRITING ABOUT NATURE BUT AT THE SAME TIME, BEING LARGELY INFLUENCED BY THE URBAN CONUNDRUM THAT I DIDN'T REALLY LIKE. I HAD NICE OFFICES IN THOSE YEARS, AND I WAS PROLIFIC. OF THAT THERE IS NO DOUBT. MY FIRST CREATIVE JAG WAS PRODUCING A BOOK WITH AWARD WINNING MUSKOKA PHOTOGRAPHER, TIM DUVERNET, A COLLEAGUE AT MUSKOKA PUBLICATIONS, CALLED "MEMORIES AND IMAGES." IT CAME ENTIRELY FROM MY MANITOBA STREET HOME, AND EVEN THOUGH NATURE WAS THE COMMON THREAD, THROUGH EACH AND EVERY STORY, I WAS STILL WRITING FROM A STUFFY SECOND FLOOR APARTMENT, IN AN OLD BRACEBRIDGE HOUSE.

FOR THE SECOND SHORT-STORY VENTURE, JUST TO SEE IF THIS WAS WHAT I WANTED TO WORK ON, IN THE FUTURE, I LET THOSE TALL PINES HAVE THEIR WAY WITH MY EMOTIONS. EVEN IF I WASN'T WORKING AT "A DIG," I WOULD SIT ON THE HIGH ROCK SHELF ABOVE THE CHANNEL OF LAKE ROSSEAU, AND LET THE WIND IN THOSE PINE TOPS INSPIRE THE MOOD OF THE DAY. I MADE COPIOUS NOTES, AND I MUST ADMIT FEELING VERY MELANCHOLY AT TIMES, WHEN THE LIGHT OF DAY, SKY, AND HUE OF THE WATER, CREATED STRANGE MOURNFUL THOUGHTS THAT FRANKLY FRIGHTENED ME AS A WRITER. I WASN'T USED TO THIS "HAUNTED" FEELING. EVEN WHEN IT WAS BRIGHT AND THE WATER WAS SPARKLING WITH DIAMOND LIGHT, THE SKY SO LIMITLESS AND CLEAR, IF THE WIND WAS TO SUDDENLY PICK UP, WITHOUT A STORM CLOUD ON ANY HORIZON, IT WOULD SOUND AS IF SPIRITS WERE SPEAKING TO ME, ABOUT SOMETHING I SHOULD THINK ABOUT……WRITE IN THE JOURNAL I KEPT WITH ME, SITTING ALONG THE SHORELINE. I MADE MANY NOTES. IT WAS, AT FIRST, A CONFUSING CONFLUENCE THAT I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND. JUST BY THE SOUND OF THE WIND RUSHING THROUGH THE PINE NEEDLES, MADE ME FEEL VERY MORTAL AND FRAGILE, AS IF HEAVEN AND EARTH WERE THEN LINKED BY THIS NATURAL OCCURRENCE…..THAT SEEMED VERY SUPERNATURAL. SO MUCH SO THAT I'D FEEL I WASN'T ALONE……, AS IF ALL OF A SUDDEN, THRUST INTO THE WREATHING PRESENCE OF DESCENDING SPIRITS, ANGELS, AND I'D START TO FEEL THE HAIR ON MY NECK STANDING ON END, AS IF I HAD TRULY SEEN A GHOST.

WHEN I DECIDED TO WRITE THIS SECOND BOOK OF SHORT STORIES, I INVITED SUZANNE'S MOTHER TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE PROJECT. AT THE TIME, SHE WAS QUITE ILL, AND THIS LITTLE PROJECT KEPT HER BUSY THROUGH A DIFFICULT TIME. SHE HAD BEEN WRITING SHORT STORIES, AND POEMS FOR YEARS, BUT THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME THEY WERE PUT IN BOOK FORM, WITH PHOTOGRAPHS BY WELL KNOWN MUSKOKA PHOTOGRAPHER, JOHN BLACK, OF GRAVENHURST. WE ENTITLED THE BOOK, "THE LEGEND OF TALL PINES." HARRIET WAS ABLE TO ATTEND THE BOOK SIGNING, AND WE SOLD OUT OF THE BOOK IN JUST OVER A MONTH. SUZANNE HAS KEPT A FEW COPIES FOR THE BOYS, ANDREW AND ROBERT, WHO NEVER GOT TO MEET THEIR GRANDMOTHER. SHE DIED SHORTLY AFTER THE BOOK WAS PUBLISHED.

THE PHOTOGRAPH ON THE FRONT COVER, IS A SHOT STRAIGHT UP INTO THE PINES AT THE COTTAGE, JUST ABOUT WHERE I'D SIT AND WRITE ON SUMMER AFTERNOONS, WHEN SUZANNE AND I RESIDED THERE, OVER A FEW SUMMERS BEFORE THE BOYS WERE BORN. LAST EVENING, STANDING OUT ON THE LANE, ENJOYING THE DAZZLING NIGHT SKY, I HEARD THE WINDSONG IN THOSE TALL PINES ON THE EMBANKMENT OF THE BOG, AND THE SEVERAL LARGE EVERGREENS AT THE REAR OF BIRCH HOLLOW. THE SOUND OF THE WIND IN THE PINE NEEDLES, STOPS ME IN MY TRACKS. IT IS THE SAME FEELING OF MELANCHOLY, I KNEW AS A MUCH YOUNG WRITER, SITTING IN THE MEADOWS OF LONG ABANDONED MUSKOKA HOMESTEADS, LISTENING TO THE DRY SPRING WIND THRUSTING THROUGH THICK PINE WOODLOTS, WITH THAT EERIE, MOURNFUL SOUND. THE CONFLUENCE OF NATURAL SOUNDS THAT ALWAYS SEEMED SO COMPELLING AND ALLURING AT THE SAME TIME, AS IT WAS HAUNTING AND INTRUSIVE, AND MADE ME FEEL QUITE ALONE IN THE WORLD. IT WAS THE SAME WIND I COULD HEAR THIS EVERNING, WHEN I STOOD OUT BENEATH THESE WONDERFUL STATELY PINES. IT WAS THE REASON SUZANNE HAD TO COME OUT AFTER ME, TO SEE IF I WAS ALL RIGHT. I WAS. I'VE ALWAYS BEEN ALRIGHT, IN THE COMPANY OF NATURE. COMFORTABLE IN THE INSPIRING EMBRACE OF MUSKOKA….MY WALDEN.

Flooding Hitting Lake Muskoka Getting Media Attention

Ongoing high water in Bracebridge all week. Fred Schulz photo

THE FLOOD WATERS HITTING THE DOMAIN OF COTTAGES NOW

     I HATE GETTING CYNICAL ABOUT SUCH THINGS, BUT IN THIS CASE I'LL MAKE AN EXCEPTION. I'VE BEEN WRITING ABOUT WHAT I CONSIDER, POOR AND MINIMAL MEDIA COVERAGE, OF THE FLOODS, THAT HAVE BEEN RAVAGING AREAS OF THE DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA…..OR "COTTAGE COUNTRY," AS THE NATIONAL AND PROVINCIAL MEDIA LIKE TO REFER TO US HERE IN GOD'S COUNTRY. I HAVE BEEN APPALLED, AT THE WAY COVERAGE OF THE FLOODING HAS CHANGED SINCE EARLY IN THE WEEK, WHEN HUNTSVILLE WAS LIFTED FROM ITS PREVIOUSLY DECLARED STATE OF EMERGENCY, AND BRACEBRIDGE WAS ALL BUT FORGOTTEN IN TELEVISED COVERAGE. EVEN THOUGH BRACEBRIDGE WAS STILL IN A STATE OF EMERGENCY, THE ELECTRONIC MEDIA FIGURED THE WORSE WAS OVER. IF THE FLOODING HAS BEEN LESSENED IN HUNTSVILLE, IT MUST MEAN EVERYTHING ELSE IS FINE TOO…..RIGHT? I SAID TO MY WIFE, AND I MAY HAVE EVEN WRITTEN IT INTO ONE OF MY BLOGS THIS WEEK, THAT THE ONLY WAY THE MEDIA WILL RE-CONNECT WITH THIS DISASTER, IS WHEN MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR COTTAGES ON OUR LAKES GET HIT WITH THE LAPPING WATERS AT THEIR DOORSTEPS. THIS HAPPENED TODAY, BUT WE'RE JUST HAPPY IT HAS RE-ENGAGED THE ELECTRONIC MEDIA, THAT THE FLOODING IS STILL A MAJOR ISSUE.

    I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE, LISTENING TO THE NEWS, EARLIER THIS WEEK, HEARD ABOUT SOME PROBLEMS WITH THE DAM IN PORT SYDNEY, IN THE PHYSICAL SENSE, CAUSING FEAR OF UNSPECIFIED STRUCTURAL PROBLEMS…….IF THEY DIDN'T LET MORE OF THE WATER OUT. I'M NOT SURE IF THEY TOLD THE FOLKS DOWNSTREAM THIS WAS GOING TO BE HAPPENING, AND WHY, BUT NATURALLY, WHEN MORE WATER WAS LET OUT IN THIS LOCALE, THE FLOODING IN HUNTSVILLE STARTED TO SHOW A MARKED REDUCTION IN LEVELS. I HAVE NOT READ OR HEARD OF ANOTHER REFERENCE TO THIS SITUATION, WHICH…..AND CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG, INCREASED BRACEBRIDGE'S PROBLEMS FOR THE REST OF THIS PAST WEEK. THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE LEAD STORY…..THE BIG ONE…..ABOUT WHY THERE WAS A PROBLEM IN PORT SYDNEY IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND WHAT DANGER DID IT THRUST UPON THE RESIDENTS DOWN STREAM, AT AN ALREADY  CRITICAL TIME OF FLOODING.

    THIS HAPPENED TONIGHT ON CTV NEWS IN BITS AND PIECES. (MINDEN FLOODING WAS LUMPED IN TO THE CLIP, BECAUSE THEY'RE ALSO REFERRED TO AS COTTAGE COUNTRY) NOW THERE IS CLEAR DANGER BEING THRUST UPON MUSKOKA LAKES' COTTAGE PROPERTIES, AND BOATERS (RECREATIONALISTS) ARE BEING ASKED TO STAY OFF THE LAKES, DUE TO A GREAT DEAL OF FLOATING REFUSE, RANGING FROM DOCKS TO PORTIONS OF BOAT HOUSES, AND JUST ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE THAT FLOATS.

    AS FOR BRACEBRIDGE, WELL, IT'S STILL IN ROUGH SHAPE, WITH MANY CITIZENS BEING UNABLE TO ACCESS THEIR HOMES, OR BEING TRAPPED IN THEM BY HIGH WATER. SO THERE IS A RESUMPTION OF MEDIA ATTENTION THAT CAN BE ATTRIBUTED TO THE FACT, COTTAGERS ARE NOW BEING IMPACTED, BY WHAT HAMMERED HUNTSVILLE  AND BRACEBRIDGE FOR MORE THAN A WEEK. BUT IF IT DRAWS ATTENTION TO THE REALITY WE STILL HAVE A DIRE SITUATION HERE, WE'LL TAKE IT…..BECAUSE THERE IS A GREAT NEED FOR AWARENESS, ABOUT HOW MANY RESIDENTS NEED A WIDE RANGE OF PERSONAL ASSISTANCE. I WILL CREDIT CTV FOR ANNOUNCING THAT THE LOCAL SALVATION ARMY IN BRACEBRIDGE, AND HUNTSVILLE, I BELIEVE, ARE HELPING WITH THE RELIEF EFFORT, WHICH IS PROVING BIGGER THAN MOST OF US BELIEVED. THEY ACTUALLY PROVIDED SOME AERIAL FILMING, SO WE COULD GET AN IDEA OF JUST HOW EXTENSIVE AND DANGEROUS IT IS, EVEN AFTER A FULL WEEK OF RAGING WATER.

     SOUTH MUSKOKA, GRAVENHURST, PARTICULARLY THE SEVERN BRIDGE AREA, HAS ALSO BEEN HARD HIT, WITH MANY RESIDENTS HAVING HAD THEIR PROPERTIES COMPROMISED, AND THEIR POSSESSIONS DESTROYED, BUT UNFORTUNATELY HAVE RECEIVED VERY LITTLE ATTENTION IN THE MEDIA…..ALMOST NIL. FRED SCHULZ, MY ROVING PHOTOGRAPHER FRIEND, KINDLY SUPPLIED SOME IMPORTANT PHOTOGRAPHS OF THIS NEGLECTED REGION OF OUR COMMUNITY. I CAN ONLY HOPE THERE IS A SIMILAR RELIEF PROGRAM ORGANIZED IN OUR COMMUNITY, AS IT HAS BEEN SET UP IN BOTH BRACEBRIDGE AND HUNTSVILLE. YOU KNOW, WE DEPEND ON THE MEDIA TO KEEP US INFORMED. THE PRINT MEDIA'S COVERAGE HAS BEEN SOFT FROM THE BEGINNING, AND HONESTLY, AS A FORMER EDITOR, I'M TRULY DISAPPOINTED IN THEIR LETHARGY, TO GET US THE SCOOP ABOUT WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON IN PLACES WE CAN'T SEE. ISN'T THAT THE FOUNDATION OF A NEWSPAPER? ISN'T THAT THE REASON IT'S A "NEWS" PAPER. OR IS EVERYTHING OUT THERE NOW "FEATURE PUBLICATIONS," WHERE HARD NEWS IS EITHER NEGLECTED OR SOFTENED INTO SOMETHING MORE PALATABLE? WE NEED A SHARPER MEDIA OUT THERE, THAT TAKES A PROFOUND INTEREST IN THE COMMUNITY IT CLAIMS TO REPRESENT……AND IS WILLING TO INVEST IN REPORTERS, TO UNDERTAKE INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM. OR IS THIS THE WAY IT'S GOING TO BE FROM NOW ON? 

     WITH MORE RAIN IN THE FORECAST, AND BALA BEING IN THE UNENVIABLE POSITION OF THE "ONLY WAY OUT," FOR THE RUN-OFF OF A HUGE REGION, STRETCHING INTO ALGONQUIN PARK, I'M AFRAID A LOT MORE COTTAGE PROPERTIES OUT THERE, ARE GOING BE DAMAGED AS WELL. I'M CONCERNED ABOUT THEM TOO. BUT RIGHT NOW, WHEN WE HAVE DISPLACED RESIDENTS IN OUR SOUTH MUSKOKA TOWNS, WHO HAVE LOST MANY OF THEIR WORLDLY POSSESSIONS, AND THEIR HOME SANCTUARY, THIS SHOULD BE OUR BIGGEST, IMMEDIATE CONCERN, IN MOUNTING A RELIEF STRATEGY, AND OFFERING DONATIONS IN TRUST OF THE SALVATION ARMY.

     IF YOU CAN HELP OUT IN ANY WAY, PLEASE GIVE THE SALVATION ARMY A CALL. THANKS FOR JOINING ME TODAY, FOR WHAT IS BECOMING A MUSKOKA AS WALDEN "SOAP BOX."

The Muskoka Folk Art of Handwritten Recipes

Bagley Road off Graham Road – Town of Gravenhurst -  Edge of the Severn River -   In Severn Bridge - Fred Schulz Photo

THE FOLK ART OF HANDWRITTEN RECIPES

      It's a cookery related heirloom, most people these days, don't consider worth too much….and if they have handwritten recipes at home, they'll most likely be tightly folded and concealed in dozens of family cookbooks passed down through the years.

     Yet there is a curious, undeniable folk art, and social-cultural relevance to their existence. There is more to them than a few scribbled lines, thumb print stains, on torn pieces of paper. In a grouping, especially with family provenance, they represent a culinary lineage, and can be considered a sort of kitchen journal.

     It's what we found out, when we began looking at our own mass of handwritten recipes, initially accumulated by happenstance, as book dealers in the antique trade. We often found hundreds of these beautifully written recipes, tucked inside old texts, and not just cookbooks. Ever since, we've been looking for these charming bits and pieces of culinary heritage, more so than formal cookbooks….which we also collect.

     After attending a fundraising flea market, several years ago (2007), at a local branch of the Royal Canadian Legion, in Bracebridge, Ontario, and having purchased many boxes of old books, we came home and (with that sense of adventure for discovery) sat out on our verandah looking through the mix of hardcover and softcover texts. There was even a full box of old recipe booklets, our pride and joy, and we had soon made quite a substantial pile of handwritten recipes of all shapes and sizes, and on all kinds of varied surfaces.

    We came upon one completely hand done recipe binder, dating from the 1930's. Tucked into these pages were dozens of neatly folded-up recipes, and when we started to add them to the pile of others, Suzanne reminded me that we were, in this case, upsetting the provenance of the book. And that we should, as curators of this collection, keep the recipes together because this is how they were found. We didn’t hold the same reservation about recipes in published cookbooks, unless there was provenance attached...such as a name, address, and relevance to a region, such as with a church or community cookbook, often used as a fundraiser.

    As much as possible it was important to know something, however minor, about where these recipes had come from, and who had passed them down through the ages.

   One of our most interesting acquisitions, came long before we had even considered collecting handwritten recipes, for fun or profit. Suzanne and I purchased a large volume of cookbooks from a Windermere (Lake Rosseau) estate; a well known woman who loved to cook and asked for, and received, many recipes from others in the community over a half century or more. When we started to take a more thorough look through the amazing collection of recipes, it was a truly remarkable entry into a culinary time machine. Suzanne even recognized some of her own mother’s recipes that had been given to the woman, so she could quickly attest as to how good each one tasted. (My wife Suzanne was raised in Windermere, Ontario). Some from this collection came from the late 1800's, and we are confident the woman had acquired these from local church rummage sales over the years, as they seemed to go well beyond what we recognized as her family connections (roots) in the region. There were names penned onto the tops of about twenty of the oldest recipes that confirmed our suspicions. There was a lot to be garnered from these neatly folded recipes from another century.

     There were many recipes from this local collection that got us thinking about the social-cultural patina of homestead cookery. It was seeing fingerprints of smudged chocolate, residue of cocoa, icing sugar, cinnamon, cloves, sage, cranberry juice trails, the tell-tale droplets of chicken and turkey grease, touches of farm fresh butter, cream, and vegetable imprints from falling ingredients between stove, pan, pot, bowl and plate. In some cases, and despite years of being folded-up in old cookbooks, you could still smell the culinary heritage they represented. We thought this was absolutely marvelous. We could imagine so many wonderful occasions from open fireplace cookery.....Irish stew steaming in suspended iron pots, to simmering soups upon the great iron horses of the kitchen....the old cookstoves. It gave us reason to imagine the dire straits of the home cook, to make a meal of substance from a few ingredients, during the hard years of war and Depression. It allowed us to wander in thought back to the harvest canning that went on in so many houses in this country, in preparation for long winters and poor economy.

    What appeared to be worthless pieces of paper from another era, contained more than just good culinary advice and instruction. If the soul of any good home is the kitchen, we had a lot of soul survivors imprinted on these ragged old recipes pages. Written by the way, on just about everything that would hold a few lines of print. Backs of envelopes, on the reverse side of invoices, notices, legal and medical, and even on the backs of memorial cards, jotted down presumably at the wake following the funeral. This is just as fascinating as the recipes on the front. They did talk to us in that subtle way history repeats, in nostalgic rekindling, for those willing to pay them some attention. There is a lot to be learned from the study of these cookery journals, and we'll offer you our overview of what they really represent in our body of heritage, representative of regions throughout our nation.

The Flood Waters Heading South, and That Damn Telephone

Flooding Heads South -  Wednesday – 5:30 p.m.

 

While Huntsville is experiencing some receding waters, the southern portion of Gravenhurst is preparing for rising waters particularly in the Severn River area.    The banks of the Severn River are cresting this afternoon flooding a number of homes and cottages along with river’s path.

 

Photographs taken along Cowbell Lane show a number of the homes with their yards completely under water - Photos by Fred Schulz

IN THE EARLY EVENING SNOW -

SPRING IS THE EVERYTHING SEASON

     I WAS DRIVEN OUT OF THE HOUSE TODAY BY THE PHONE. I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON A HUGE WRITING ASSIGNMENT, AND FINDING IT DIFFICULT TO CONCENTRATE. THERE WAS A TIME, AS A YOUNG WRITER, IN A BUSY NEWSROOM, THAT I COULD WORK THROUGH THE DIN OF REPORTERS CONDUCTING INTERVIEWS, STAFF YELLING AT ONE ANOTHER, AND THE PHONE RINGING CONSTANTLY. I COULD STILL MEET DEADLINE. IN FACT, I PRIDED MYSELF, ON NEVER MISSING A DEADLINE, AND IN MANY CASES, I WOULD GET A LAST MINUTE EDITORIAL TO WORK ON, WITH ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES TO SPARE, BEFORE THE NEWSPAPER HAD TO BE "PUT TO BED." THAT WAS THEN. I AM NOT SO CAPABLE ANYMORE, TO HANDLE DISTRACTIONS.

     WE HAVE TAKEN OVER THE CELL PHONE MY FATHER HAD ACQUIRED, JUST BEFORE HIS DEATH A FEW YEARS BACK. IT'S KIND OF A SENTIMENTAL KEEPSAKE THAT IS ALSO RATHER USEFUL. EVEN AFTER A STROKE, AND HAVING FALLEN NUMEROUS TIMES, INJURING HIMSELF, HE WAS ABLE TO ANSWER THE PHONE WHEN SON ANDREW CALLED. HE DIDN'T ANSWER IT ON THE FIRST CALL, BUT MANAGED TO SPEAK TO ANDREW ON THE SECOND. ALL HE SAID WAS, "I COULD USE SOME HELP GETTING OUT OF BED." AFTER ASSURING HIM WE WERE ON THE WAY OVER TO HIS APARTMENT, I HAD ANDREW PHONE FOR AN AMBULANCE, TO MEET US. I KNEW THAT IF MY "SAILOR" FATHER, NEEDED HELP TO GET OUT OF BED, SOMETHING GRAVE WAS HAPPENING. I WAS RIGHT, AND ALTHOUGH HE SURVIVED FOR A MONTH AFTER THIS, HE EVENTUALLY SUCCUMBED. SO WE DID SAVE HIM, AT THE TIME, BY HAVING THIS CELL PHONE. IT WAS SO EASY TO USE, THAT A CHAP WHO HAD JUST SUFFERED A STROKE AND BODILY HARM FROM FALLING, WAS ABLE TO ANSWER. IT WAS HIS FIRST CELL PHONE, ACQUIRED AT EIGHTY YEARS OF AGE. IT WAS THE FIRST CELL PHONE, FOR SUZANNE AND I, WHO HAVE BEEN HAPPY WITH A LAND-LINE SINCE THE DAYS OF PARTY-LINES, AND "SARAH THE OPERATOR." BY TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR THIS PHONE, WE HAD MADE A JUMP INTO THE MODERN ERA, I SUPPOSE. BY TODAY'S STANDARD, THIS PHONE IS GREATLY OUTDATED……AN ANTIQUE AS FAR AS TECHNOLOGY IS CONCERNED, BUT IT GETS THE JOB DONE.

     I have procrastinated on a book I've been writing, for a board of directors of a local recreational complex, in preparation for an upcoming anniversary this year. I have worked on it here and there, when information has become available, and since early December, I've managed to piece enough together, to be able to sit down at this desk, and despite the distractions outside my window, begin working on the finished manuscript. I'm now once again facing a deadline, and for a writer, this is either all the incentive we need to get the job done, or a nightmare scenario if we suddenly become either uninspired, or distracted. Sort of like getting sucked toward the brink of a waterfall, in a canoe, with a paddle and some indecision. Where do you paddle to? Or do you paddle so fast off the brink, you sail up and over the troubled water. I've never been one to suffer these writing dilemmas, until most recently, as I have admittedly, tripled my daily workload from even those fledgling days as a cub reporter…..when the sing-song and din of a newsroom, was by itself, a source of inspiration.

     I don't answer the phone in my office when I'm working. We have our cell phone for emergencies. I don't want calls offering me carpet cleaning, or a freezer full of freshly cut beef, fish or swine. I don't need my lawn raked, as Suzanne has already done this, and I don't like boat cruises, so winning one doesn't turn my crank. There are people who may wish to talk to me about local history, or about political misadventures, or to just chat about the good old days. I hate this over the phone at any time, and it's what I like about the cell phone, truth be known. I can shut it off.

     Today the infernal tool of communication, wouldn't give me any piece. I can't even get under my desk these days, to unplug it, to stop the ringing. Back issues. If I take it off the receiver, the assorted noises it makes, becomes a truly unpleasant distraction, more than the constant ringing. We are on the federal "do not call" list, and while it worked for a few months, it's worse now than it ever was…..and I'm thinking of having it removed and buried somewhere in the yard.

     It was cold and rainy today, but honestly, it was the only place I could escape to, in order to distance myself from the constant interruptions. I was put behind schedule today, on my writing project, simply because, after awhile, I had to surrender. I can't even describe to you, how that stark, ear piercing ring tone, startles me in the middle of word-smithing. Even when I bring the ring tone down, by adjusting the bottom dial, it still sounds as if I'm in the bell tower of Notre Dame.

     I finally took Bosko out for a walk in the rainy forest, and in only a few minutes, I was adjusting to the simple country pleasures of rain drops on the old leaves, and into the myriad of puddles; and the ducks and geese fluttering and complaining out in The Bog was soothing in fact, because it didn't sound like a phone. It was a wonderful respite from office politics, even at Birch Hollow. When we'd finished our walk, and were both soaked, I still couldn't go back into the house, to face more phone ringing, and my rising anger. I just couldn't. So I sat on my newly swept front verandah, where I have some old theatre seats lined-up, and within a few moments, Bosko and I were cozy together, and quite content to be a part of this natural vista of a spring rain, and so much budding in our gardens. It got colder as our respite grew longer into the afternoon, and soon, we simply had to seek a warmer place to reside.

     I wasn't in the door five minutes, and the phone began to ring. It rang through dinner. Suzanne and I both refused to answer it, because we are content to talk with each other……and our sons know how to get in touch with us when need arises. It takes my pleasure away, at times, to be in this beautiful place, so comfortable looking out upon The Bog, and happily working away, to then be hammered by the ring of nonsense….that I find I can no longer tolerate. So if I've missed your phone call, send me an email. If you just wanted to pass the time, or maybe sell me something or other, I don't have the time right now……and I may not in the future either. I just want to have a no-ring day here at home. But honestly, because of this day, I'm really looking at disconnecting the phone, that has been at my side since we arrived here at Birch Hollow. Talk about an antique of communications. It and me. I just wish it would ring a lot less, and when I'm not in the middle of work….or my dinner.

     I now live in Muskoka as a retiring writer, with a retiring teacher as my life-mate. We want…..no, insist upon, a gentler way of life. This old phone and those who beat it to death, will have to conform to our new lives, or be disconnected forever; maybe I'll put the phone in a glass showcase, as a reminder of the way we used to live our lives…….a slave to those who wished our attention constantly.

     My Muskoka, like Walden, is best suited to quiet reflection. It is the heart, for me, of yup, "serenity now." I must insist.

From Sunny Pasture, Misty Moor, to Raging Torrent

The rapids above the Bracebridge Falls - photo by Fred Schulz

A SPRING MOTOR TRIP, THROUGH SUN DRENCHED PASTURES, OVER MISTY HILLSIDES, AWAKENING FORESTS, AND A FLOODED LANDSCAPE

     IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL SUNNY DAY. I HAD BEEN WORKING ON A HISTORY FOR A LOCAL RECREATIONAL FACILITY, THAT HAD HIRED ME BACK IN THE FALL, AND I CONFESS, THAT AS I'M NEARING THE DEADLINE FOR ITS COMPLETION, I HAVE LITTLE APPETITE FOR SITTING AT THIS DESK ALL DAY, FINISHING THE MANUSCRIPT. I AM AT LEAST AFFORDED A BEAUTIFUL VIEW OVER THE BOG, THE LOWLAND ACROSS THE LANE FROM OUR HOME AT BIRCH HOLLOW. BUT IT IS OF NO COMFORT TODAY, AS THE SUN AND WARM AIR ARE BECKONING ME OUTSIDE.

    AND FINALLY, AFTER HOURS OF DENYING TEMPTATION ITS RIGHTFUL COURSE, I TOOK A STROLL OUT ON OUR LOCAL MOOR, TO SEE HOW THE SPRING IS COMING ALONG, HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA. WHAT A PEACEFUL SOJOURN, EACH TIME I ARRIVE HERE. THERE ARE SO MANY NATURAL NOISES OCCURRING HERE, THAT AFTER AWHILE, IT BECOMES ALMOST DEAFENING, EVEN AS DRIED LEAVES RUSTLE IN THE SOFT MORNING BREEZE, WASHING OVER THE SUNKEN LANDSCAPE. STANDING ABOVE THE TINY CATARACT THAT LOOKS LIKE MOLTEN SILVER, FLOWING OVER BARK-LESS BRANCHES, GIVES EVERY APPEARANCE OF BEING ARTIFICIAL, OR AN ARTIST'S DEPICTION; BUT NOT THE REAL DECLINE OF RUN-OFF WATER, THAT SHOULD NOW, LOOK BROWN OR BLACK IN THE INTENSE SUNLIGHT. IT IS THE PLAY OF LIGHT AND REFLECTION, AND THE POSITION OF THE SUN OVERHEAD, THAT MAKES THE COLORATION LOOK DIFFERENT, HAVING MORE SILVER IN IT THAN BLUE OR GREEN.

     Once again, as I had experienced yesterday, I couldn't help thinking about those residents of Bracebridge, who have been adversely affected by the most recent flood waters, from the overflow of both the north and south branches of the Muskoka River. I imagine they would very much prefer to wander along a landscape like this, at my beck and call today; instead of the grim reality, the crest of the flood is yet to come, and the encroachment on buildings much more intrusively, than over the past week. I decided to take another motor-trip back to my old hometown, ten miles north, and along the way, up the Muskoka Beach Road, I was both heartily enthralled, and calmed, by the pervasive, pleasant solitude, yet subtle colorless beauty, of the awakening forests and meadows; lowlands and highlands along its snaking path; overhung by cathedral maples and tall pines, leaning birches and stark rock outcroppings, with small pockets of snow left in the shadows, soon to melt away into the tiny creeks criss-crossing the picturesque topography, from horizon to horizon.

     In only a few miles, I have come open my first open view of the swollen Muskoka River, as it currents aggressively over its banks, and onto the roads and properties of abutting residents. When you get close to the Bracebridge Falls, the roar you hear today, isn't calming whatsoever. As a fledgling author, I used to sit at its base, for days on end, writing about the history of Bracebridge. Today it is a cruel and frightening roar, that shows the potential of nature to shape and remove what falls in its path. It is an angry scene, this huge cataract fanning out, beating over the top of the dam, smashing against the concrete break-wall below, as I have never seen it before. There is beauty even in this display of power, and re-written history, because of the consequence we are made aware of, by the media, of just how much damage the flooding has already inflicted up and down stream. There is no comfort at this moment, recognizing that the river is just reclaiming what it has held before, in pre-history….because now there are mortals directly in harm's way.

     After awhile, the sound becomes less abrasive, and threatening, almost as if the voyeur can sense the danger passing, as wishful thinking plays tricks on the mind. At other times, it's as if a spirit speaks through the roar, reminding us that nature has no contract to abide….no rules to follow, no sensitivity to bestow, friendship to rekindle…..apology to offer, for doing what has been happening since the beginning of time. It is a stirring scene, and one to behold with great respect. It may never be seen like this for a hundred years. Or it might well return next year, worse than it is today. It is this vast mystery of nature, a watershed, that attracts the attention of disbelievers, who will, as anecdote, a thousand times today, say, "I've never seen anything like this before." They may be correct, when they say this to other voyeurs with cameras focused on the frothing cataract, and the turbulence of Bracebridge Bay Park. A few old-timers, I've heard chatting beside me, have already given the dates, to the best of their knowledge, of times it has been just as bad….like when Hurricane Hazel hit Ontario back in the 1950's. Others just look and say nothing, spellbound by nature's power.

     On the way home, I drove slowly, with the window all the way down, hoping to catch a scent of the sweet grass that grows in several pockets of the woodland along Muskoka Beach Road. Here was a more pleasant, amicable nature, warming the rocks on the hillsides, and giving the Trilliums the light needed for their spring revival. It was all so silent, peaceful and restorative. But you don't forget the way it can become, in a heartbeat or less; that manic change of mood, when a waterfall becomes something grander, more awesome and dangerous. I have seen both sides today, on this casual trip through the awakening countryside of South Muskoka.

     We send our best wishes and prayers to those affected, and trapped in their homes and cottages, as a result of the flooding situation presently affecting Muskoka.

The Strange Contrasts of Nature in Muskoka

Photos of Bracebridge Flooding Taken by Muskoka Photographer Fred Schulz

THE FLOOD OF 2013, THROUGH THE CAMERA LENS OF THE PHOTOGRAPHER

FRED SCHULZ COMES THROUGH WITH SOME REVEALING IMAGES OF BRACEBRIDGE FLOOD

    When I got back to Birch Hollow, late this afternoon, after returning from a lengthy motor-trip around the district, to check out the flooding situation, particularly of the Muskoka River, south and north branches, I wandered lazily over to The Bog, for a wee respite with my canine companion, Bosko. Here then, as a powerful contrast in nature's moodiness, was this beautiful sun drenched woodland, rising in light and shadow, high above The Bog, now fully free of its snow cover, which was here only a few days ago…..before the torrential rain of last week; and the heavy winds that helped dry up the acreage of lowland and forest, on the upper bank of Muskoka Bay, here in Gravenhurst.

     Admittedly I felt quite guilty, that here in this large lowland, that filters a huge volume of annual run-off, from many abutting urban neighborhoods, the creeks were greatly reduced in their water flow, and the cataracts I could hear from a great distance, late last week, were nearly silent in the enclosure of matted grasses and mounds, created by the rotting stumps of long since fallen birches. To stand here, on the embankment of The Bog, looking at this gentle landscape, seemed so distant from the wide-scale flooding only a short distance away, even close to the urban area of our community. This is a drainage area where you would expect flooding to occur, but this afternoon, it looked more vulnerable to an open flame, than as a place that might soon flood over, even in the next event of heavy rain expected by mid week.

    It was a remarkable change in only a short drive, between Bracebridge and Gravenhurst. The flooding of the Muskoka River has yet to peak along its watershed, and many residents of low lying areas, have already been seriously affected by rising water. Some have been unable to stay in their homes and cottages, and their electrical services have been shut-down in the most seriously affected areas, to avoid the dangers this exposure to water can create.

    Standing here, overlooking this quiet scene, is actually quite unsettling, when only twenty minutes earlier, I was watching as the the dam across the Bracebridge Falls was being breached by the cascade of water flow, pounding down through the rapids by the old Woolen Mill architecture, rigid white, against the natural shoreline of the opposite side.

    From watching whitewater racing down, and crashing over the dam, gouging deeply into a turbulent Bracebridge Bay, to then, calmly watching chipmunks and squirrels darting about in this sun illuminated woodland, seems unfair to the humanity suffering a little further north. Here is an example of "peace on earth." There, it is "rage unclenched." But then this is the diversity of the Muskoka region. The wild mood swings. The sudden intensities of wind and storm. The prevailing calm, replaced by the encroaching front. The thunder and lightening, and torrential rain. The sudden change. The sunny pastoral scene, that moments later, looks as if we have been provided a glimpse of heaven, all at once, without having had to die to reach it. Muskoka is full of enchantments, just as it is naturally unique and at times, very unpredictable. The poets who used to visit here, in the 1930's were allured by its strange essences, of loveliness yet danger, all within seconds of each pinnacle of experience.

     I once again have to thank the master photographer, Fred Schulz, for coming up with some amazing photographs to document this historic natural event, as it affects the Town of Bracebridge, and so many residents along the river course, who have been adversely impacted by one of the largest run-off anomalies in modern history.

     Today, I will leave this blog in the capable hands of the true story teller…..my photographer colleague, Fred Schulz.

     Our thoughts and prayers are with those folks in peril.

Muskoka River As Viewed in 1870 by Thomas MacMurray

At the fork in the Muskoka Rivers, North and South in Bracebridge- Photos by Fred Schulz

THE MUSKOKA RIVER AS VIEWED IN 1870, BY THOMAS MCMURRAY

THE MUSKOKA RIVER HAS ALWAYS BEEN AT THE CENTRE OF LOCAL LORE

     "THE MUSKOKA RIVER IS VERY ATTRACTIVE, AND CELEBRATED FOR THE PERFECT REFLECTION WHICH IS EVERYWHERE NOTICEABLE - IN FACT, SOME DECLARE THAT IN THIS RESPECT, IT IS EQUAL TO THE FAR-FAMED LAKES OF KILLARNEY."

     "THE VILLAGE OF BRACEBRIDGE IS THE MOST IMPORTANT IN THE DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA; IT IS SITUATED IN THE SOUTH-WEST PORTION OF THE TOWNSHIP OF MACAULAY, ELEVEN MILES NORTH OF GRAVENHURST, ON THE NORTH BRANCH OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER, AT WHAT IS KNOWN AS NORTH FALLS, ABOUT FIVE MILES FROM ITS INFLUX WITH LAKE MUSKOKA," WROTE MCMURRAY, MUSKOKA'S FIRST ACTING HISTORIAN.

     "WHEN THE WRITER FIRST VISITED IN MUSKOKA, IN 1861, THERE WAS NOT A TREE CUT NOR A SETTLER TO BE FOUND ON THE PRESENT SITE - ALL WAS A DENSE FOREST; IN FACT, THERE WAS NO ROAD TO IT, AND THE ONLY MEANS OF CROSSING THE RIVER WAS BY WALKING OVER A PINE LOG WHICH FORTUNATELY SPANNED THE STREAM, WHICH I CAN ASSURE YOU WAS A DANGEROUS EXPERIMENT." IF YOU HAVE SEEN PUBLISHED PHOTOGRAPHS (ONLINE) OF THE CATARACT BELOW THE SILVER BRIDGE, AS VIEWED IN THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS, IMAGINE WALKING ACROSS A SLIPPERY PINE LOG WITHOUT A HAND-RAIL.

     "THE GRAND MUSKOKA FALLS, ARE ALWAYS ATTRACTIVE TO TOURISTS (CIRCA 1870), AND MUCH ADMIRED BY LOVERS OF NATURE. IN THE SPRING OF 1866, A SCENE OF UNUSUAL INTEREST PRESENTED ITSELF.  IN FORMER YEARS THE SPRAY HAD FORMED AN ARCH OVER THE FALLS, BUT ON THIS OCCASION IT ASSUMED THE FORM OF A CONE WITH A CRATER, AND FROM ITS MOUTH THE SPRAY CAME BOILING FORTH, IN AWFUL GRANDEUR, ASCENDING AT LEAST 100 FEET. IT MIGHT BE COMPARED TO A MIGHTY, MASSIVE SILVER FOUNTAIN, SENDING FORTH ITS SPARKLING WATERS. ANY ONE WHO HAS WITNESSED VESUVIUS (VOLCANO) BURNING IN HIS FURY, MAY FORM SOME CONCEPTION OF THIS GRAND SITE. AS I GAZED UPON THE SCENE A DOUBLE RAINBOW SPANNED THE FALLS; COUNTLESS ICICLES WERE HANGING FROM THE BRANCHES OF THE TALL PINES AS THEY BENT GRACEFULLY OVER THE CATARACT, AND I WISHED THAT THE WORLD MIGHT BE PRIVILEGED WITH THE SIGHT. I DROVE SOME DISTANCE IN ORDER TO GET AN ARTIST (PHOTOGRAPHER) TO TAKE A NEGATIVE, BUT THE SPRAY WAS SO GREAT THAT A GOOD PICTURE COULD NOT BE OBTAINED. MULTITUDES OF THOSE WHO LOVE THE SUBLIME AND PICTURESQUE, TAKE A TRIP HITHER ONCE A YEAR; AND, WHEN WE CONSIDER THAT THE FALLS ARE 175 FEET IN HEIGHT, AND THAT 3,670 TONS OF WATER PER MINUTE, RUSH THROUGH THIS NARROW MOUNTAIN GORGE, AND DESCEND TO THE BASIN BENEATH, WITH A VOICE LIKE THUNDER, IT IS NOT TO BE WONDERED, AT THE VISITORS FROM ALMOST EVERY PART OF THE CONTINENT, HAVE CARVED THEIR NAMES ON THE BRIDGE THAT SPANS THE GRAND MUSKOKA FALLS. THE WRITER IS NOT A LITTLE PROUD OF THE THOUGHT THAT HE WAS ONE OF THE FIRST TO CARVE HIS NAME ON THAT WONDERFUL RECORD."

THE MUSKOKA RIVER IN THE POET'S EYES

    A DABBLER IN POETRY, THOMAS MCMURRAY WROTE THUSLY, ABOUT THE RAGE OF THE RIVER, IN HIS POEM, "MUSKOKA," PUBLISHED IN HIS SETTLERS' GUIDEBOOK, IN 1870, GIVING SOME EARLY PERSPECTIVE TO JUST HOW BEAUTIFUL BUT DANGEROUS THE WATER WAY WAS, DURING THE SPRING SEASON. HE WRITES;

     "THE CALM, UNRUFFLED RIVER QUIET FLOWS, SAVE WHEN SOME SUDDEN BREEZE MARS ITS REPOSE, OR WHEN SOME SCALY TENANT OF THE FLOOD, DARTS FORTH HIS SHINY LENGTH, IN QUEST OF FOOD; OR O'ER ITS SMOOTH AND PLACID SURFACE GLIDES, THE FRAGILE BARK CANOE THE SKILFULL INDIAN GUIDES.

     "BUT SEE NOW, BURSTING THROUGH THE NARROW GORGE, ITS WILDLY RUSHING TORRENT SEETHE AND SURGE, ONE BOILING MASS OF FOAM; FROM ROCK TO ROCK, IT FALLS, IT BOUNDS, WITH QUICK SUCCESSIVE SHOCK, THE THUNDERING NOISE THE ROCKY BANKS RESOUND; AND THEN WAKEN COUNTLESS FOREST ECHOES FAR AROUND.

     "THE ROCKS TOSS UP THE FOAM IN SPORTIVE PLAY, AND GLITTERING RAINBOWS SPARKLE IN THE SPRAY; THE AWFUL SCENE, THE DEAF'NING ROAR APPALLS, SUBLIME, MAJESTIC, GRAND MUSKOKA FALLS; THAT MOCK THE PUNY ARTS OF MAY, AND STAND WONDROUS WORK OF AN ALMIGHTY HAND."

STATE OF EMERGENCY IN BRACEBRIDGE AND HUNTSVILLE

     As far back as Thomas McMurray, in the 1860's, there is considerable reverence afforded the north and south branches of the Muskoka River. Their unpredictable nature provided picturesque scenery at times, and evoked fear at others. Just as they are viewed at present, to be so dangerous with spring run-off. It is to be assumed McMurray witnessed these periods of high water, in the spring of the year, and knew that while it would fuel the local economy, of which he was heavily invested, it could also be the devil within, when it gained too much run-off, and threatened to erase all the progress that had been gained. Early on, in the settlement of Bracebridge, which was initially known as "North Falls," the river took on an almost mythic significance for pioneer philosophers, and there are many similar descriptions of the Muskoka River, such as a lengthy notation in the "Muskoka Guidebook and Atlas," produced by Captain Rogers and artist Seymour Penson. The river and its falls, are part of the characteristic of the community, from its founding homesteaders, and the relationship has only strengthened over the decades. Yet even with this kinship of topography and community, it has always been anticipated, by generations of visionaries, a succession of old-timers, that one day, the river would spill over its banks and achieve a record flood. There have been many occasions of it spilling its banks, but this spring's disastrous late snow melt, and torrential rain over several days, has created the so called perfect storm of conditions; currently making history as one of the worse floods ever. This event was predicted from the 1860's, as an inevitable reality, of being companioned with a major confluence of rivers and lakes. This may be the occasion McMurray was thinking about…..many decades in advance. On Saturday, it would have been hard to navigate even a small boat, under the bridge over the confluence of the north and south branches….creating a highly dangerous whirlpool at the junction.

     It is expected the water will crest by sometime on Monday of this week. Folks living in the flood-prone areas have been urged, for the most part, to leave their properties, in case of a major surge of water, covering a large acreage of lowland along the river course to Lake Muskoka. I have lived on, and had family residing on flood plains in three areas of Muskoka, and have a great deal of respect for the surge of water that can come so quickly, as to trap residents with its silent encroachment, leaving occupants in potentially life threatening situations. The emergency preparedness program seems to be working well, and we heard at least twenty radio warnings today, while we were in transit. Our prayers go out to all the citizens, in Bracebridge and Huntsville, and all other areas affected by flooding, and hope levels will reduce early in the week. Please be safe out there, and don't take chances with this incredibly powerful river…..known as such, back in the 1860's. This may become one of the biggest natural events in Muskoka history; but if you were to read "Gary Long's" wonderful book, "This River, The Muskoka," you'd realize, the really big flood occurred thousands of years ago……when the river was more of a lake, as the physical gouging on the landscape shows today, in aerial overviews.

     Take care out there. Don't take unnecessary chances. It's one thing to have a flood. Another thing to have a flood without any casualties…..which is the one we all prefer, if we have to endure one of two options.

     Thanks for joining in today. I have once again included a number of Fred Schulz photographs of the flooding situation.

Through The Photographers Lens

" I arrived in Bracebridge early this morning before the roads were closed to get some good photographs of the amount of water that was flowing.   River Road, (on the way to Bass Rock) was completely flooded and a C.B.C. was getting set up to file and do a story.  The end of Beaumont Drive was impassible, but people continued to drive through the water.

 

Bracebridge was filled with curiosity seekers by the time I left at 11:00 a.m.   The traffic was getting heavy with people just driving around to have a look at the falls." - Photos and quote by Fred Schulz

THROUGH THE PHOTOGRAPHER'S LENS - A DISASTER UNFOLDING

FRED SCHULZ GETS UP CLOSE TO A MAJOR FLOOD ON THE MUSKOKA RIVER

     WELL KNOWN MUSKOKA PHOTOGRAPHER, AND MY BLOG COMPANION, FRED SCHULZ, GENEROUSLY OFFERED TO TAKE PHOTOGRAPHS TODAY, OF THE FLOOD SITUATION ARISING IN THE LOWLAND AREAS, ALONG THE WATER COURSE OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER, AS IT PASSES THROUGH THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE. I ATTENDED THE FLOOD SCENE, WITH PAD AND PEN THIS MORNING, WHILE FRED TOTED ALONG A BRAND NEW CAMERA, TO SEVERAL STRATEGIC LOCATIONS, TO DOCUMENT THE HISTORY OF THIS UNFORTUNATE TURN OF EVENTS……AT NATURE'S DISCRETION. WHAT WE BOTH SAW THERE, WAS STAGGERING, AND ALL WE COULD THINK ABOUT, WAS WHAT MIGHT COME LATER, IN THE WAY OF INCREASING WATER LEVELS, OVER THE NEXT FORTY-EIGHT HOURS. THIS HAS BEEN THE CONCERN FOR TOWN OFFICIALS, AND A STATE OF EMERGENCY HAS BEEN ISSUED FOR THE TOWN, AND HUNTSVILLE, TO THE NORTH; ALSO DUE TO INCREASED RIVER LEVELS. THERE HAVE BEEN EMERGENCY REST STATIONS ESTABLISHED, OPERATING TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY, AND IN BRACEBRIDGE, IT'S LOCATED AT THE RECREATION CENTRE NORTH OF THE URBAN CENTRE.

     THIS IS AN HISTORIC EVENT FOR MY FORMER HOMETOWN, AND I BELIEVE FRED'S PHOTOGRAPHS ARE OF MORE IMPORTANCE, THAN MY COMPANION EDITORIAL, SO I HAVE PUBLISHED MORE OF HIS WORK INSTEAD. HE HAS REALLY CAPTURED THE POWER OF NATURE IN THESE FEW IMAGES.

Bracebridge's State Of Emergency

In quieter seasons - Photo By Fred Schulz

BRACEBRIDGE'S STATE OF EMERGENCY - BASS ROCK FLOODING, DOWNSTREAM DAMAGE

MUSKOKA RIVER OVERFLOWS ITS BANKS

     AS A MATTER OF SOME IRONY, AT LEAST TO ME, I WROTE LAST EVENING ABOUT MY EARLY DAYS HANGING-OUT AT BASS ROCK, ON THE MUSKOKA RIVER, IN THE URBAN AREA OF THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE. IT WAS A DANGEROUS PLACE EVERY SPRING, EVEN IF THE FLOW WAS REDUCED BY A SLOW MELT, AND A LOW LEVEL OF PRECIPITATION. AT THE NARROWING PORTION OF THE RIVER'S FLOW, AT BASS ROCK, ON RIVER ROAD, AN ACCIDENTAL TRIP INTO THE RAGING CURRENT, WOULD HAVE MEANT CERTAIN DEATH. WE ALL KNEW TO RESPECT ITS BLACK, TWISTING, CURLING CURRENTS, THAT COULD PULL YOU UNDER, AND CARRY YOU DOWNSTREAM, INTO ITS LARGE BAY, BEFORE LETTING GO.

   I DIDN'T SEE THE FLOODING IN THIS AREA TODAY, BUT IT IS A LOW-LEVEL ZONE THAT HAS BEEN HIT BY HIGH WATER MANY TIMES IN THE PAST. MY PARENTS USED TO LIVE AT THE BASS ROCK APARTMENTS, AND ALTHOUGH I DON'T REMEMBER IT CROSSING THE ROAD, AT THAT PARTICULAR POINT, (DURING MY PARENTS YEARS OF RESIDENCY) IT WAS CLOSE ON MANY OCCASIONS. FURTHER UP THE ROAD, AT THE FORMER HART'S GREENHOUSE LOCATION, WELL BEFORE THE INCLINE TO THE HUNT'S HILL BRIDGE, RIVER WATER USUALLY SPILLS OVER, ANNUALLY, EVEN BACK IN MY CHILDHOOD; THE LATE 1960'S AND EARLY 70'S. WE USED TO RIDE OUR BIKES THROUGH IT FOR A LAUGH.

     I WAS AT THE BRACEBRIDGE FALLS EARLY THIS AFTERNOON, AND I MUST CONFESS, TO NOT BEING ABLE TO RECALL A SIMILAR OCCASION, WHEN RIVER FLOW WAS ACTUALLY POUNDING OVER THE DAM RAILINGS. I'VE SEEN IT DO THIS IN A SMALL WASH, OVER THE CONCRETE, BUT TODAY'S FLOW WAS, AT TIMES, HITTING UP OVER THE RAILINGS, BEFORE TUMBLING INTO THE BASIN OF BRACEBRIDGE BAY.

   BELOW, IT WAS OBVIOUS FROM THE ENCROACHMENT OF THE PARKLAND, ON THE POWER HOUSE SIDE, THAT THIS WAS GOING TO BE A BAD MONTH FOR FLOODING DOWNSTREAM. IN FACT, I CAN ONLY REMEMBER THREE OTHER OCCASIONS, WHEN I HAVE SEEN IT APPROACHING THIS HEIGHT; ON ONE OCCASION, SERIOUSLY DAMAGING COTTAGES AT VUE DE LAC, PAST THE BEAUMONT FARM, ON BEAUMONT DRIVE. I RECALL BEING EMPLOYED WITH THE LOCAL PRESS, AND TAKING PHOTOGRAPHS OF A BOATHOUSE FLOATING OUT TO THE LAKE. I EXPECT, FROM WHAT I WITNESSED TODAY, THAT IT WILL SURPASS THAT YEAR'S LEVEL.

     THE PROBLEM WITH THIS FLOODING, IN ADDITION TO WHAT DAMAGE IT WILL DO TO BOATHOUSES, DOCKS, AND BOTH COTTAGES AND HOUSES, SITUATED ON FLOOD PLAINS, IS THAT IT CAN LEAD TO SOME PRETTY SERIOUS SHORELINE EROSION, WHICH FROM PAST EXPERIENCE, CAN BE PARTICULARLY DANGEROUS TO LOCAL SHORELINE RESIDENTS. I HAVE COVERED THESE SMALL BUT SIGNIFICANT LANDSLIDES, ON SEVERAL LOCATIONS ALONG THE RIVER, WHERE LARGE PORTIONS OF SHORELINE, TREES INCLUDED, SLIPPED DOWN INTO THE RIVER COURSE. THERE ARE A NUMBER OF VULNERABLE AREAS ALONG THE RIVER, WHERE THIS COULD PRESENT A PROBLEM IF THE WATER CONTINUES TO RISE, INCLUDING SECTIONS OF BEAUMONT DRIVE, AND A LONG STRETCH OF SHORELINE, BEFORE THE HUNT'S HILL BRIDGE, WHERE YOU CAN STILL SEE THE REMNANT TREE TOPS, OF THE LAST SLIDE EVENT.

     I WAS A REPORTER, IN THE 1980'S,  AT THE TIME OF MAJOR FLOODING OF RIVER ROAD, PAST BASS ROCK, WHERE RESIDENTS HAD TO USE BOATS TO ACCESS THEIR HOMES AND COTTAGES, AND AGAIN ON SANTA'S VILLAGE ROAD, WHERE IT HAS A LONG STRETCH OF WELL TRAVELLED TARMAC, ONLY A FEW FEET ABOVE THE RIVER THROUGH A MAJORITY OF THE YEAR. I THINK HISTORY WILL SHOW HOWEVER, THAT SINCE THE MID 1960'S, SERIOUS DAMAGE HAS BEEN MITIGATED FORTUNATELY, DESPITE SOME SIMILARLY HIGH WATER. THE PROBLEM OF BEING A DRAINING SYSTEM FOR A HUGE AREA OF THE REGION, AND BEYOND, INCLUDING LARGE PORTIONS OF ALGONQUIN PARK, IS THAT BALA IS THE ONLY OUTLET FROM LAKE MUSKOKA…..RECEIVING THIS CONFLUENCE OF HIGH WATER FROM THE MUSKOKA RIVER.

     IT WAS A DRAMATIC MOMENT, TO WATCH THIS POUNDING RIVER FLOW, OVER THE BRACEBRIDGE FALLS DAM, AND A LARGE CROWD OF SPECTATORS HAD GATHERED TO WATCH THE NATURAL SPECTACLE.

     THE SCULPTURE OF "THE DIVER," THE BRONZE ART PIECE, CREATED BY GRAVENHURST ARTIST, RICHARD GREEN, IN THE 1980'S, WAS ONLY BARELY VISIBLE THROUGH THE TUMBLING WATER TODAY. THE ORIGINAL PLACEMENT OF "THE DIVER," WAS ON A ROCK IN THE CENTRE OF THE CATARACT. A BUILD-UP OF ICE, BROKE THE SCULPTURE'S MOUNT, AFTER IT WAS POUNDED BY THE SPRING RUN-OFF, ONE YEAR, SHORTLY AFTER ITS PLACEMENT. IT WAS MOVED TO A LOCATION UP ON THE ROCKS, AT THE SIDE OF THE WATERFALL, BUT TODAY IT WAS EVEN GETTING HIT HARD BY WATER RAGING OVER THE DECLINE.

     MANY PEOPLE HAVE PERISHED IN THE STRONG CURRENTS OF BRACEBRIDGE BAY, SINCE THE EARLIEST DAYS OF SETTLEMENT, CIRA 1860, AND THE WAY IT WAS BOILING IN THE BASIN, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A LETHAL GAMBLE, TO GET TOO CLOSE, ESPECIALLY ON THE WALKWAYS AROUND THE PARK, IN CASE OF SUDDEN EROSION, OR A SLIP AND FALL MISADVENTURE.

     FRED SCHULZ HAS PLANNED A PHOTO-SHOOT AT THE FALLS, AND ALONG THE RIVER, TOMORROW, SO PLEASE VISIT THIS BLOG ON SATURDAY EVENING, FOR SOME INTERESTING VANTAGE POINTS, OF A RAGING MUSKOKA RIVER…….AS MOTHER NATURE CAN UNLEASH WHEN WE GET TOO COMPLACENT, AND FORGETFUL OF HISTORICAL PRECENDENTS.

     THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR JOINING ME TODAY. PLEASE VISIT AGAIN SOON.